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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123629">A Brewing Storm</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkyn_Wynter/pseuds/Arkyn_Wynter'>Arkyn_Wynter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mild Gore, Two Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:20:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123629</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkyn_Wynter/pseuds/Arkyn_Wynter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It should come as no surprise that when her journey home came empty-handed that Dag had enough. The night of her return—a night where Thor banged Mjölnir through the skies and left Ledecestreshire enveloped in heavy rainfall, thunder, and lightning—he had called her out. Roused her from sleep and awakened most of the townsfolk to hear his cry.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Brewing Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Greetings,</p><p>This has been Beta read by eretein. Should you be interested in fanfiction from the webseries RWBY, then be sure to head on over to eretein's page and give Artificer a chance! (Solely on Fanfiction.net) </p><p>Assassin's Creed: Valhalla. Two-shot. Rated M. Female! Eivor. SPOILER WARNING. Character death.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her room was dimly-lit and seemed to set the mood for the coming event.</p><p>Eivor let a finger caress the sharpened blade of her father's ax as she willed her thoughts to rest. Dag, her trusted companion—perhaps most trusted—among her crew had challenged her to a Holmgang—a fight to the death for nothing more than the temporary leadership of Ravensthorpe 'til Sigurd Jarl returned.</p><p>Perhaps the signs had been all there. She knew since Sigurd's capture he had become more difficult. Anything she did was questioned. Why are we raiding when Sigurd's still gone? Where is our true Jarl? Did you bother to find him at all? Even settling simple disputes between folks of Ravensthorpe was seen as usurping the throne. And yet, she ignored all of it. Let it wash over her to be forgotten for a while. The drengr always had more pressing matters to attend to. There was no shortage of work to do when the Raven Clan was here to stay. The Norse and Saxons of Ravensthorpe needed a safe place to build their home and to do that they needed friends and allies.</p><p>Alas, there was some truth. Had her journey to Cent been sooner, she might've found Fulke and even her brother. Instead, she found Sigurd's severed arm in a torture chamber and Fulke well out of her grasp.</p><p>So, it should come as no surprise that when her journey home came empty-handed that Dag had enough. The night of her return—a night where Thor banged Mjölnir through the skies and left Ledecestreshire enveloped in heavy rainfall, thunder, and lightning—he had called her out. Roused her from sleep and awakened most of the townsfolk to hear his cry.</p><p>The creaking of wooden floorboards told her of someone nearing her room. She already knew who it was. The one who had been against it from the start.</p><p>Eivor looked up from the ax and saw Randvi standing in the doorway, dressed in dark-colored robes, her signature fox cloak around her shoulders. A troubled look adorned her delicate face.</p><p>"Have you come to change my mind?" Eivor said, averting her gaze.</p><p>Raven Clan's intelligent advisor sighed and proceeded further inside the room, taking a seat next to the drengr on the soft bear furs of Eivor's bed. "Even if I was, it would not matter. Dag's mind is made."</p><p>Eivor nodded. He had defied her. While she pledged to Cent and told her crew to ready the longship for a long journey, he had worked against her, told her someone had to stay behind and manage the daily livelihood of Ravensthorpe. A hooded jab at her capabilities as a stand-in Jarlskona.</p><p>Sigurd was close at hand, so she didn't pay much mind to any of it. Her emotions clouded her judgment, the closer she got to her brother.</p><p>"The last Holmgang I witnessed was that of King Oswald of East Anglia. When I first met him, he was but a boy. One I thought would not last a month. He saw Danes and Saxons as one but lacked the backbone to convince others."</p><p>"East Anglia... Was that from the clan who attacked us here?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Eivor remembered not much from that day. She had given a speech, told the Raven Clan of their most recent riches and how their little settlement was growing a foothold in Mercia. She remembered that during the attack of the rival Dane clan. She saw Randvi burrowing her ax in her enemy's head without a second glance—and perhaps even how joyful her sister-in-law seemed.</p><p>"You fought ferociously that day," Eivor said with a sly grin.</p><p>Randvi leaned back, a smile on her lips. "It is not every day that I get to swing an ax."</p><p>"And when you do, you certainly slay your enemies with the strength of a hundred Jötnar," the drengr said, holding her hands wide apart. "I need not remind you of our day in Grantebridge?"</p><p>The pair chuckled.</p><p>Randvi had felt most alive that day since their departure from Norway. Finally, she could explore a bit of England—murky old maps that came to life. The difference from her homeland was astounding. No blizzards, no vast pointed mountains piercing the sky of northern lights. Instead, she found blooming nature in England. Birds that sang and various wildlife. Brown-colored leaves falling from trees and a sun reflected on the river, casting an orange glow over their skins as their little boat Eivor sailed towards Grantebridge. Norway was beautiful in its own right. But this—this was different.</p><p>She remembered how they swiftly dealt with the raiders that had stolen a horse, how they drank themselves piss-drunk, and how their day ended on top of a tower with a view branded in her mind for ages. She had admitted to feeling something for the Scourge of Mercia as the Saxons had come to name her. Surprisingly, a fire whose warmth she didn't bask alone in—but stilled in respect of a brother and a husband.</p><p>"The circle is made! Bring the Wolf-Kissed!" Dag called out.</p><p>The table maiden, or the mead-queen, as Randvi had jestingly called herself that day felt a sharp sting in her gut grounding her to the bed. It dawned on her that Eivor might fall in this duel. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she stood up and turned to her friend, a frown etched on her face.</p><p>"You haven't finished your story." Randvi could only point out. A sullen look befell her. "You... will finish it later, will you not?"</p><p>"Randvi..."</p><p>Hurried footsteps clattered through the longhouse and took their attention as Bragi came into view. He glanced between the two of them, hesitant. "Eivor, we are ready."</p><p>She nodded and tightened her grip on the hilt of her father's ax. A look at the battle-worn weapon set her mind at ease. This blade was reserved for enemies of the Raven Clan, and as much as she felt disdain for the Nornir for having spun their fate this way, she would not fight a brother with this ax.</p><p>Bragi scratched his head when the weapon was thrust into his hands.</p><p>Eivor laid her hand upon his shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. She walked out of the room. If she cast a look at the flaming-haired goddess of a woman, carved out of Yggdrasil herself, doubt would settle in her mind.</p><p>This was something she just had to do.</p><p>-</p><p>"A fight to the death."</p><p>The townsfolk had gathered in a wide circle around Eivor Varinsdottir and Dag Nithisson in front of the longhouse. The bell had roused the few still sleeping Ravens awake and they hadn't wasted time in hearing Dag's call, most of them fearing an attack of some kind. When the true purpose was revealed, the Norse Ravens had clothed themselves thick for the brewing storm ahead and the Ravens native to England followed suit. Most of them were not all that familiar with the practice of a holmgang, yet they knew the stakes and worried for what this would bring, should the chieftain they had been most familiar with in the settlement here fall.</p><p>"Wolf-Kissed," Dag said, holding his arms open and wide as he spoke. "You have two weapons at your disposal, and you can only use those two during our battle."</p><p>Eivor let her eyes wander around the circle.</p><p>Tekla seemed to be quite nervous, as well as Gunnar.</p><p>Rowan pulled his cloak farther over his head.</p><p>A few Norse warriors of her crew held weapons in front of them—a sword, an ax, and even a knife.</p><p>"You also have access to but one shield."</p><p>Eivor stepped towards the weapons and took hold of an ax. It weighed lighter than her father's ax, but it would have to do for now. She looked up to see Dag's choice and saw a sword sheathed on his belt and an ax in his hand. Bragi, who had Varin's ax secured tightly on his belt, handed her the shield. The clan's purple and blue colors blackened under the rainfall. She gave him a thankful nod and walked back to the place she came from, noticing the ground had become mud. Her second choice of a weapon already around her forearm.</p><p>"Are you ready to meet your end Eivor?"</p><p>"Stop this. Please! We can still resolve this another way," Randvi called out from her place under the longhouse's roof.</p><p>Dag guffawed. "Ah, Randvi. Always the diplomat." He let his gaze fall back on Eivor. "Would any of us really be surprised that you, not only wish to have Sigurd's riches but have also plowed his wife against every''—her grip tightened on the ax, her jaw clenching—"possible wall of that room." He grinned at Randvi's silence.</p><p>"Your quarrel is with me, Dag," the Wolf-Kissed said. "If you're here to spew nonsense, I'd suggest you lay down your weapons and walk away."</p><p>"Do no fret Eivor. I have nothing planned of the sort." Dag rolled his head around and loosened his shoulders.</p><p>The duel had begun by all rights.</p><p>They were feeling each other out.</p><p>Who would strike first and possibly gain the upper hand?</p><p>A flash of lightning spurred Eivor to lead the first attack. She ran and set herself off in the air, her ax high above her head.</p><p>Dag lifted his shield just in time to deflect it and followed the momentum. Thunder rumbled as he swung his ax.</p><p>The Wolf-Kissed dodged it but slipped on the mud—a stagger which Dag used to his advantage.</p><p>Dag thrust his shield forward as hard as he could.</p><p>Eivor let out a grunt as the shield hit her body.</p><p>The drengr pulled his shield back and swung his ax again, tearing her leather open from the collarbone to the shoulder.</p><p>The crowd gasped.</p><p>Dag reveled in his small victory and took a few steps back.</p><p>The Wolf-Kissed looked at the tear in her armor. The weight of the situation set in. She held his stare and threw her shield to the ground.</p><p>"You walk a fool's path, Dag. This does not need to happen." She growled.</p><p>Dag shook his head. "A coward to the last." He disposed of his shield. "Have courage, Eivor. I will make it quick." He roared and charged her way. He made quick attacks which the Wolf-Kissed blocked easily.</p><p>One particular attack had more force and his opponent used both of her hands on the hilt to meet the ax, leaving her right side just enough open. His left hand pulled back and formed a fist before coming around and punching her in the jaw.</p><p>Saliva flew and she was brought to her knees while her hold on her ax loosened. The weapon fell to the mud. Both of them panted.</p><p>"Have you gone soft?" Dag said.</p><p>Her tongue tasted of iron as she spat out blood. She dug into the earth below and cupped a handful of mud. She brought one leg up to and spun around, throwing the mud at his face.</p><p>Eivor ducked and took a hold of her fallen weapon.</p><p>The temporary blindness and shock gave her enough time.</p><p>With a yell she slashed and struck his side, drawing blood as he yowled.</p><p>The drengr held his side while he dragged his gloved hand over his face. He spat on the ground to dispose of the taste of earth.</p><p>"I will grant you exile. Leave this place, but go with your life."</p><p>Dag shook his head with a grin. "Spare me your pity." He spat. "Fight me!" He charged at her again and swung his ax.</p><p>Eivor used the mud to her advantage and with a lucky slide dodged his attack. She spun her body and struck his back.</p><p>The crowd gasped and murmured.</p><p>She watched him for a second. He was sturdier. This was not the end of their battle. They had raided together for years and Eivor knew what his next tactic would be when the loss was at hand and anger fueled his actions. He became a brute.</p><p>"I will make a goblet out of your skull!" Dag roared. He faced her and broke into a sprint. He rammed into her, tackling her to the ground.</p><p>A fire that rivaled Helheim seemed to burn inside him as he delivered blows with his fists to her face.</p><p>Eivor tried her best to deflect most of the attacks, but she got hit quite a few times.</p><p>Their weapons lay discarded in the mud.</p><p>A blow set her sights on the crowd closest to the longhouse. Her eyes found cerulean blue ones.</p><p>Randvi had slipped into the crowd to stand as close to their inner circle as she could.</p><p>Eivor wasn't sure if she saw tears running down her milk-white skin or if it was the rain.</p><p>The weight lifted off of her body and Eivor tried to take in as much air as she could. Her body moved on its own accord and she rolled over to bring herself on her knees. The mud enveloped her gloved hands. She heard the footsteps of Dag and the telltale signs of a sword leaving its sheath.</p><p>A moment later a strong kick to her stomach flew her on her back. She yelped as she held her stomach and coughed.</p><p>The drengr stood next to her and towered over her, a sword clenched in his hand. "The Wolf-Kissed," he said, his words lathered with poison. "You were lucky that Styrbjorn took you in. A welp without a clan would not make it two days alone." Dag turned to the crowd. "Always in the shadow of our Sigurd. Styrbjorn riches would be promised to him. Not you. Sigurd would have ruled over Fornburg as a king had his father not betrayed us—"</p><p>She could barely see him as the rain washed away some of the dirt and blood on her face.</p><p>He was addressing the Ravens— a show of strength?</p><p>Lightning flashed.</p><p>She saw a hooded figure standing close to Dag. The figure watched him for a second before turning to her.</p><p>Eivor squinted and made out the grayish beard. A raven cawed in the air and flew down to perch on the man's shoulder.</p><p>Odin.</p><p>He spoke no words. Instead, his gaze did not meet hers. It fell on her wrist. The not-so-hidden blade.</p><p>When she looked up again, the All-father was gone.</p><p>"—I will find Sigurd. I will bring back our Jarl."</p><p>Eivor brought herself upright onto her feet. Adrenaline coursed through her body, blocking out most of the pain. She staggered, seeing only out of one eye, the other swollen shut.</p><p>"Dag..." She grunted. "Stop stalling and kill me."</p><p>He faced her. Surprised she was standing again. He frowned.</p><p>The crowd murmured and whispered.</p><p>"Strike me down. I've had enough."</p><p>Was she taunting him? She had no weapon in hand. To willingly die was to be a coward—deny the great beyond.</p><p>Dag watched the confused gazes of the people around them. Would Eivor willingly deny Valhalla? A menacing laugh escaped him. "A true Varinsdottir it seems." He glanced at his sword. "You are not deserving of Odin's great hall. You will join your cowardly father in Helheim." He spun the sword around and strolled towards her.</p><p>The sword slashed.</p><p>Eivor's right hand came up to grab the blade and direct it away from her body. It grazed her arm. The metal dug through the leather glove. She punched with her left hand.</p><p>The hidden-blade stabbed through his throat.</p><p>She retracted her arm and the blade withdrew. She punched him in the face.</p><p>A thud echoed as the drengr fell on his back. He held his throat and gurgled. Blood pooled around his mouth and nose, his eyes wide.</p><p>Eivor watched his hand reach into the earth. Searching for something. Her breaths left her in heavy puffs.</p><p>Some of the Saxon townspeople averted their eyes.</p><p>Randvi watched Eivor. Relief washed over her, and yet she could not fully grasp what had happened. Eivor would never die without a weapon in her hand. She would go down fighting.</p><p>Dag was in over his head to not see it.</p><p>The Wolf-Kissed saw the ax lying a few meters away from the drengr. The beautiful battle-maidens on their pearl-white horses already galloping in the distance. She hadn't noticed her surroundings had turned dark, and the void filled them until a voice spoke up.</p><p>"If I had any pity, I would not lavish it on this poor fool," the hooded figure from before said.</p><p>The god of many names stepped into view.</p><p>A sense of disbelief overtook Eivor. "He forced my hand."</p><p>"Yes. And the cost of disrespect is death. You said it yourself," Odin said, watching her.</p><p>Eivor shook her head. The All-father spoke true and yet, it seemed wrong to her.</p><p>"All he demanded, you gave him," Odin said. "That should be enough, for I have no need for one so fragile in my hall of heroes."</p><p>"He fought for what he believed in. Does that not count for something?" Eivor said. He had fought because he thought Eivor was not fit to lead them. And it was honorable to try and change that. The Hall of the Slain. Valhalla was the ultimate goal for any true vikingr. She could not deny him that, could she?</p><p>"Does it? You killed him all the same," Odin said. The seeds of his spoken words sprouted doubt in her mind. "What is the true cost of disrespect? The choice lies with you." He disappeared into the void and her surroundings became clear and louder again.</p><p>Eivor's eye fell on the poor soul. The life in him struggling to hold on. She crouched down next to him. "It should not have come to this, old friend." The ax was in her view. She just had to reach out.</p><p>What is the true cost of disrespect?</p><p>No.</p><p>Eivor shook the thoughts away and grabbed the ax. She placed it on Dag's body and let his hands envelop the weapon. "Take this, and fly to Odin's hall. Whatever you sought in this life, may you find it in the next."</p><p>Dag held her sight as his dying breath left his body until he moved no more—the Valkyries close at hand.</p><p>It could have been the dirt irritating her eye, it could have been the rain running down her face, it could have been blood trickling down her cheek. And it could have been a lone tear escaping her.</p><p>The result was the same. A brother slain by her hands.</p><p>-</p><p>Her mind felt empty. Her body ached all over and yet she could not spill any tears. The rainfall had subsided to droplets now and then. Thunder rang in the distance. The worst of the storm had passed hours ago.</p><p>She had made him his final resting place in their small graveyard. Next to her good friend Svend. A friend she sadly could not have seen off to his next life. Odin's statues towered over them, protecting their graves.</p><p>Eivor knelt before Dag's grave. Most Ravens had returned to their homes after that ordeal. Their chieftain commanded it. She could not bear their eyes on her. Others had gathered in the longhouse, trying to make sense of it all with friends. And perhaps to speak and drink to their most profound tales and memories of Dag Nithisson.</p><p>Randvi had tried to give some sort of comfort but Eivor felt undeserving and shrugged her off. She would lay Dag to rest, and she would do it alone. Even if his body was heavier. She would feel the struggle, and she fell many times in the slippery mud, dragging him along.</p><p>He would feast to his heart's content in Valhalla tonight. With his fellow fallen brothers, and would fight many battles until Ragnarok, where the All-father would ask his ax one final time.</p><p>As an Einherjar—a warrior of Odin.</p><p>The peace and quiet of Ravensthorpe did little to settle her. She sat there on a nearby log, her gaze never leaving the grave.</p><p>Words had formed but she could not speak any out.</p><p>No words could honor his memory. Would he even hear her? Would it matter?</p><p>Someone was walking her way, she had heard their nimble footsteps. Her gaze remained on the grave though. Whomever it was stopped nearby, hesitant to approach.</p><p>A smile tugged at the corners of her lip. A guess was as good as any. "You were named after the God of poetry Bragi. Speak your honeyed words clearly."</p><p>The elder Skald chuckled and approached. "Your eyes never wavered. How could you know it was me?"</p><p>"You have a certain graze in your steps. At times even feather-light." Eivor finally looked up at him.</p><p>Bragi had many years on his name. Always a delight on the ship when they had long travels ahead of them. His imagination often ran wild when he told tales of events he may or may not have experienced himself. His years also brought wisdom—the wisdom she would often seek out.</p><p>"Fair." Bragi eyed the grave. "He should have had more faith," he mused as he took a seat on the log.</p><p>"He lived as he died. Proud and defiant. We cannot begrudge him for that."</p><p>"No. We cannot," Bragi said. "If he had sailed with us to Cent... Perhaps it would not have come to this."</p><p>Eivor glanced at him. He had been with her crew for many years. Fought many battles with her without batting an eye. If anyone could be honest without hidden meanings who was also close with the entirety of her crew it was him.</p><p>"Speak honest, friend. Have I slacked in my exploits across England? Did Dag speak true?"</p><p>The Skald scratched his bearded chin in thought. Dag had become bolder in his words against Sigurd's right hand, not caring if Eivor heard it. Although he could not follow his mindset, not like some others. "I believe our old friend had himself convinced of such actions. Fooled by a serpent-like Loki in his ear," he said. "Yes, there was uncertainty amongst the crew when Sigurd was captured. I will not lie, and say those uncertain thoughts hadn't crossed my mind," he said. "I have... questioned some of your decisions, but I also followed you anywhere you led us. And I will follow you anywhere. I believe in your leadership, Eivor. You have brought glory, wealth, and allies in a foreign land that was and still is against us from the very moment we sailed through their waters."</p><p>"You speak kind words Bragi."</p><p>He smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder, much like she had done before in the longhouse. "You have done what you could with what was given to you Eivor. We will find Sigurd... You will find Sigurd and bring him home."</p><p>A genuine smile adorned her face. "Thank you, friend."</p><p>His hands grazed the gilded ax on his belt. Remembering it was not his to keep. He pulled the weapon from its place and held it out for the chieftain. "I also believe this belongs to you."</p><p>Eivor accepted the ax gratefully and winced when she grabbed the hilt with her injured hand.</p><p>"That brings me to why I originally came here"—she could already guess why—"Randvi wishes you to come inside and get treatment for your wounds. A no was unacceptable."</p><p>Eivor chuckled. Of course. "I suppose we should not loiter any longer then. For she could easily take our heads."</p><p>The elder Skald laughed. "She could and most certainly would." He stood up from the log.</p><p>When Eivor tried to do the same, her abdomen stung.</p><p>Bragi quickly came to her aid. Her ribs burned. She shrugged him off, wishing to feel anything she could at this moment. She deserved no less.</p><p>Her eyes fell on the grave again. She could not leave just yet.</p><p>Bragi saw this and decided to walk ahead, giving her privacy.</p><p>Eivor watched the final resting place, pondering over what she could say. "I will miss hearing you tell your stories, old friend. I will remember them well." A sigh escaped her as she tried to find the right words. "May we meet again in Odin's hall with mead in our hands and stories richer to tell." Eivor nodded. She felt satisfied with that. "Rest easy friend."</p><p>She walked away from the graves, leaving Svend and Dag to rest in their eternal slumber and making a silent promise to visit often.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Leave a comment! I would love to know what you thought of it :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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